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ACT II.

SCENE, before Quickly's House in Eastcheap.

Enter Corporal Nim, and Lieutenant Bardolph.

W

BARDOLPH.

ELL met, Corporal Nim. (12)

Nim. Good-morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph. Bard. What, are Antient Pistol and you friends yet?

Nim. For my part, I care not: I fay little; but when time fhall ferve, there fhall be fmiles; but that shall be as it may. I dare not fight, but I will wink and hold out mine iron; it is a fimple one; but what though? it will toaft cheese, and it will endure cold as another man's fword will; and there's an end.

Bard. I will beftow a breakfast to make you friends, and we'll be all three fworn brothers to France: let it be fo, good corporal Nim.

(12) Bard. Well met, Corporal Nim.] I have chofe to begin the 20 Aft here, because each Act may close regularly with a Chorus. Not that I am perfwaded, this was the Poet's Intention to mark the Intervals of his Acts as the Chorus did on the old Grecian Stage. He had no Occafion of this fort: fince, in his Time, the Pauses of Action were fill'd up, as now, with a Leffon of Mufick. And therefore he might think himfelf at Liberty to introduce his Chorus where he pleas'd; and whenever any Gap was made in History, which was necessary to be explain'd for the Connection betwixt Action and Action. In Pericles, Prince of Tyre, fa Play, which has been attributed to our Author; and, indeed, fome Part of it is certainly of his Writing :) it is evident, that the Chorus fometimes fpeaks in the middle of the Acts. I'll make one Observation, that in the obfolete Plays, a little before our Author's time, these StageDivifions were more precisely ascertain'd. For then a Dumb Show, representing what was expected to follow, was prefix'd at the Head of every Act.

Nim. Faith, I will live fo long as I may, that's the certain of it; and when I cannot live any longer, I will do as I may that is my reft, that is the rendezvous

of it.

Bard. It is certain, corporal, that he is married to Nel Quickly; and certainly fhe did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her.

Nim. I cannot tell, things must be as they may; men may fleep, and they may have their throats about them at that time; and fome fay, knives have edges: it must be as it may; tho patience be a tir'd Mare, (13) yet fhe will plod; there must be conclufions; well, I cannot tell.

Enter Pistol and Quickly.

Bard. Here comes antient Pistol and his wife; good corporal, be patient here. How now, mine hoft Pistol? Pift. Bafe tyke, call'st thou me hoft? now by this hand, I fwear, I fcorn the term; nor fhall my Nel keep lodgers.

Quick. No, by my troth, not long for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen, that live honestly by the prick of their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-houfe ftraight. O welliday lady, if he be not drawn! (14) Now we fhall fee wilful adultery, and murther committed.

(13) Tho Patience be a tir'd name, yet She will plod.] A tir'd Name plodding, fure, is a very fingular Expreffion. I make no Doubt, but it is a Corruption of the Prefs, and that I have reftor'd the true Reading from the old Quarto.

(14) Owelliday Lady, if he be not hewn now,] I cannot understand the Drift of this Expreffion. If he be not hewn, muft fignify, if he be not cut down; and in that Cafe, the very Thing is fuppos'd, which Quickly was apprehenfive of. But I rather think, her Fright arifes upon feeing their Swords drawn and I have ventur'd to make a flight Alteration accordingly. If he be not drawn, for, if he has not his Sward drawn, is an Expreffion familiar with our Poet: So, in the Tempeft.

Why, bow now, ho? awake? why are you drawn?

And in Romeo and Juliet ;

What, art thoy drawn among these heartless hinds?

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Bard. Good lieutenant, good corporal, offer nothing

here.

Nim. Pifh!

Pift. Pifh for thee, Iland dog; thou prick-ear'd cur of Inland.

Quick. Good corporal Nim, fhew thy valour and put up thy fword.

Nim. Will you fhog off? I would have you folus.
Pift. Solus, egregious dog! O viper vile!
The folus in thy moft marvellous face,

The folus in thy teeth, and in thy throat,

And in thy hateful lungs; yea, in thy maw, perdy;
And, which is worfe, within thy nafty mouth.
I do retort the folus in thy bowels;

For I can take, and Piftol's cock is up,
And flashing fire will follow.

Nim. I am not Barbafon, you cannot conjure me: I have an humour to knock you indifferently well; if you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will fcour you with my rapier as I may, in fair terms. If you would walk off, I would prick your guts a little in good terms as I may, and that's the humour of it.

Pift. O braggard vile, and damned furious wight! The grave doth gape, and doating death is near; Therefore exhale.

Bard. Hear me, hear me, what I fay: he that ftrikes the first stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts as I am a foldier.

Pift. An Oath of mickle might; and fury fhall ábate. Give me thy fift, thy fore-foot to me give:

Thy fpirits are most tall.

Nim. I will cut thy throat one time or other in fair terms, that is the humour of it.

[gain. Pift. Coupe a gorge, that is the word. I defie thee aO hound of Creet, think'st thou my spouse to get?

No, to the fpittle go,

And from the powd'ring tub of infamy
Fetch forth the lazar Kite of Crefid's kind,
Dol Tear-feet, the by name, and her espouse.

I have, and I will hold the Quondam Quickly
For th' only fhe; and pauca, there's enough; go to.

Enter the Boy.

Boy. Mine hoft Pistol, you must come to my mafter, and your hoftefs: he is very fick, and would to bed. Good Bardolph, put thy nofe between his sheets, and do the office of a warming-pan: faith, he's very ill.

Bard. Away, you rogue.

Quick. By my troth, he'll yield the Crow a pudding one of these days; the King has kill'd his heart. Good husband, come home presently. [Exit Quick. Bard. Come, fhall I make you two friends? we must to France together: why the devil should we keep knives to cut one another's throats?

Pift. Let floods o'erfwell, and fiends for food howl on!

Nim. You'll pay me the eight fhillings, I won of you at betting?

.

Pist. Bafe is the flave, that pays.

Nim. That now I will have; that's the humour of it. Pift. As manhood fhall compound, pufh home. [Draw. Bard. By this fword, he that makes the firft thrust, I'll kill him; by this fword, I will.

Pift. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.

Bard. Corporal Nim, an thou wilt be friends, be friends; an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too; pr'ythee, put up.

Pift. A noble fhalt thou have and prefent pay; And liquor likewife will I give to thee;

And friendship fhall combine and brotherhood.

I'll live by Nim, and Nim fhall live by me.
Is not this juft? for I fhall Suttler be
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.

Nim. I fhall have my noble?
Pift. In cafh most justly paid.

Nim. Well then, that's the humour of't.

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Re-enter Quickly,

Quick. As ever you came of women, come in quickly to Sir John: ah, poor heart, he is fo fhak'd of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him.

Nim. The King hath run bad humours on the Knight, that's the even of it.

Pift. Nim, thou haft fpoken the right, his heart is fracted and corroborate.

Nim. The King is a good King, but it must be as it may; he paffes fome humours and carreers.

Pift. Let us condole the Knight; for, lambkins! we will live,

Bed.

SCENE changes to Southampton,

Enter Exeter, Bedford, and Weftmorland.

[Exeunt,

MORE God, his Grace is bold to truft these trai

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tors.

Exe. They fhall be apprehended by and by.

Weft. How smooth and even they do bear themfelves, As if allegiance in their bofoms fate,

Crowned with faith and conftant loyalty!

Bed. The King hath note of all that they intend,
By interception which they dream not of.

Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bed-fellow,
Whom he hath lull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours;
That he should for a foreign purfe fo fell

His Soveraign's life to death and treachery!

[Trumpets found.

Enter the King, Scroop, Cambridge, Grey, and Attendants.
K. Henry. Now fits the wind fair, and we will aboard,
My lord of Cambridge, and my lord of Maham,
And you, my gentle Knight, give me your thoughts:
Think you not, that the pow'rs, we bear with us,
Will cut their paffage through the force of France;

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